


There's No Place Like Home

by lonniek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Scott McCall, Fuck Scerek Anon Week, Future Fic, Group Sex, M/M, Poly pack, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Derek Hale, Top Isaac Lahey, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It all starts with an idea that Isaac has over lunch one afternoon. He and Scott are draped over the kitchen chairs in Isaac’s apartment, eating sandwiches that Derek left for them and chatting about how different things are now." In which Scott, Stiles, Isaac, and Derek decide that it's time to move in together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally going to be a part of something else, but it ended up being finished during [FSA Week](http://fuckscerekanon.tumblr.com/), and I'm so happy to be able to be a part of it.
> 
> For notes on why my story is tagged the way it is, please click [here](http://demigirlisaaclahey.tumblr.com/post/130703637221/you-know-what-no). All comments regarding my tagging system will be deleted.

It all starts with an idea that Isaac has over lunch one afternoon. He and Scott are draped over the kitchen chairs in Isaac’s apartment, eating sandwiches that Derek left for them and chatting about how different things are now.

“For a long time, I wasn’t sure I was coming back,” Isaac says, spearing a piece of honeydew melon from the bowl of cut fruit in the center of the table. “And then even when I came back, I never thought it would end up like this…” Scott reaches over to take his hand, but stays quiet. He knows that it’s hard for him to get it all out sometimes, knows that if he’s not careful and says the wrong thing, Isaac will clam up again, and they won’t have this conversation again for weeks.

“We could have all really died,” Isaac whispers, and the haunted look that passes over his face as he remembers Erica and Boyd makes Scott’s chest cold. But then Isaac smiles again and looks Scott in the eye, and Scott relaxes a little more. “What I mean is that I’m glad that we’re here now, that we can have this and each other.” Scott beams and leans over to kiss Isaac softly on the lips. They linger in each other’s space for a moment, embracing the warmth of their comfort.

“I’m glad you came back. You deserve to have all of this. You deserve—“ Scott’s phone starts to buzz, the alarm in his back pocket telling him that he’s out of time. With a sigh, he fishes it out of his pocket and kills the alarm, glaring at the offending piece of hardware. “I’m sorry.”

“This is what I’m talking about, though,” Isaac says, standing as Scott does and taking their dishes to the sink. He leaves them to clatter against the porcelain basin and heads back to the front door, where Scott is stuffing his feet into his shoes without untying them. “I live so far away, and the rest of your life is hours off.”

“What?” Scott says, confused as he slings his bag over his shoulders and turns to face Isaac one last time before taking off. There’s too much else happening in his head to put the two and two that Isaac is laying out together. “You know I don’t mind coming over here. I love spending time with you.” Isaac smiles again, a softer, private affair that means he’s truly taken what Scott’s saying to heart.

“I know. That’s why I think we should all move in together.” Isaac rushes the sentence as Scott opens the front door, and the breeze that comes in blows away the awkward silence.

“You…want us…all of us, to move in?”

“Yeah. I thought…” Isaac takes half a step back, rounds his shoulders and gets ready to curl in on himself. Scott watches him flinch, can almost hear Isaac’s father’s voice in his ear, and he reaches out to take Isaac’s hand and pull him close. Isaac tenses at first, but melts into the contact, clinging as close as he can and taking deep, steadying breaths of Scott’s scent. The quiet snuffling continues, the only sound while Scott proves with his hug what he can’t with his words: that he’s staying, no matter what. When Isaac’s no longer tense under his hands, Scott pulls away just enough to cup his face and look him in the eye.

“I didn’t think you wanted to live with Derek and Stiles.”

“It’s not that. You know I love them. And I know you do. I just…I didn’t think this would work. I wanted a way out. But now…it’s been years. We’re happy. Everything feels settled. It doesn’t feel like we’re going to have to pack up and go again. I want roots.”

“Isaac,” Scott whispers, and it’s so soft that Isaac finds himself blinking back tears. “Come down for the weekend to me and Stiles’ place. I’ll have him call Derek and we’ll talk, okay? I would _love_ to move in with you.” Scott’s second alarm, the one that means he really does have to get back on the road now, startles them out of the cocoon they’ve created with their arms around each other, and they break apart laughing.

“Drive safe,” he says, kissing him softly one last time.

“You bet,” Scott responds with a breathy laugh, and then he’s out the door, leaving Isaac with the door wide open and the lopsided grin stuck haphazardly on his face. When he collects himself minutes later, he grabs his phone and races to dial Derek’s familiar number.

“Hello?” he asks, voice thick and sleepy. Isaac pulls his phone away from his ear to look at the time.

“How are you still asleep at one in the afternoon?”

“Stiles and I had a late night. What’s up?”

“Scott said yes.”

“Hold on.” Isaac waits, hears Derek thump Stiles over the head with his pillow to wake him, and Stiles’ answering call that someone better be dying to interrupt his sleep. There’s some rustling, and then it’s quiet. “Say it again, Isaac.”

“Scott says he wants to talk to us all together about it, but when I told him I wanted to move in together, he said yes.” Isaac’s excitement is hardly contained over the shoddy speaker system of Derek’s phone, and it crackles as Isaac yells the word yes.

“Did you tell him that we’ve been trying to plan this for months? He does know how inconvenient it is to have to choose who I sleep with that night, doesn’t he? Now I can have both.” Stiles yawns and pushes the phone across the bed to Derek and lays back down. Derek clicks off the speakerphone function and Stiles rests his head in Derek’s lap, content to fall back asleep.

“Isaac?”

“That’s a good question, Derek,” Isaac whispers into the receiver, falling onto the sofa and curling up around a pillow. “Who is he going to sleep with? No offense, but I really don’t want to share a bed with you or Stiles.”

“None taken. Sometimes I don’t want to share a bed with Stiles. He kicks in his sleep.” Isaac chuckles and Stiles whacks Derek across the arm. “But seriously, I wouldn’t worry about it. Stiles is just a cranky cuddle slut when he wakes up. He’ll share Scott just fine.”

“I know that. I’m afraid I won’t. When he comes over, I have him all to myself here. When we move in together, I’m afraid I’ll have to compete for his attention. I already have to with all the alarms he sets so he’s never late and I don’t want to—“

“Isaac, breathe,” Derek directs into the receiver. He gets a shaky breath in response, and decides that it’s a start. “This is why he wants to talk about it. It’ll be fine. Did he say when he wanted to meet?”

“This weekend, at the apartment.”

“Derek, if you don’t hang up the phone and come back to sleep, so help me God I will go home and sleep.”

“Shut up, Stiles. Sorry, Isaac.”

“No, go. It’s okay. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“I’m glad to see you so excited about something.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

That weekend, the only real argument they have is over who has to take out the trash when they all move in together, because it’s the one chore that none of them like. Isaac says it should be Stiles, because he gets to have access to two different beds if he wants it, and that’s really unfair for the rest of them.

Stiles is pretty sure that Scott and Derek only agree to it out of spite.

There’s weeks of planning. Stiles has a headache with how many sets of paperwork it takes to move out of your house and move into another one. There’s house hunting and an infinite number of trips to storage and then packing things into boxes and boxes and boxes.

* * *

 

It’s a Tuesday afternoon when Scott gets the call from Derek.

“Derek, hey,” Scott says, his voice soft and warm the way it always is for him. Scott understood better than most how little people spoke to Derek caringly, and endeavored to only have kind words for him. When the energy on the phone wasn’t cordial in response, Scott’s smile falters. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you come home? To your apartment. Stiles is…” Derek trails off, uncertain of how best to finish his sentence. Stiles isn’t panicking anymore. The panic died down into quiet sobs that were a knife between Derek’s ribs. He hovers by the door to the master bedroom, where Stiles cowers on the floor in the corner, refusing to be touched or comforted. Derek puts the phone back up to his ear, defeated, hurt. “He needs your help.”

“Shit, I was supposed to meet Isaac for coffee in fifteen minutes, but I can—“

“I already called Isaac. He says to tell you to go. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask on a date day if it was anything less than an emergency, but he’s been shaking for an hour and he won’t let me touch him and he won’t tell me what’s wrong and I—“

“Derek. Derek, hang on, I’m on my way.” Scott hangs up immediately, puts on his blinker and changes lanes to get off the freeway and turn around, praying the whole time that whatever’s happening doesn’t mean more war. Scott’s thoughts turn to Allison as he nears the on ramp for the freeway. He’s tired of having to be a soldier.

When Scott finally pulls up to the apartment, cursing every second that the rusty front gate refuses to open, the first thing he smells is the fear. Stiles’ fear is tangy like iron and bile; it’s pungent and strong and _wrong_. But Scott has had time to get used to Stiles’ fear. It’s Derek’s fear that makes Scott worry as he swings the car into its parking space and bolts upstairs. Derek’s fear is sour like rotting flesh, and Scott chokes on it.

“Derek,” he calls, slamming open the front door and right into Derek’s chest.

“I heard you coming. I didn’t want to leave him.” Derek turns to leave and head back into the bedroom, but Scott grabs his hand to stop him, if only for a moment.

“Hey. _Hey_. Come here.” Derek pauses and turns his head over his shoulder to look at the bedroom door again, like every second he’s not in the room with Stiles is another pound of guilt on his conscience. “I know,” Scott whispers, taking a slow, deliberate step toward Derek, palms upturned and arms extending until he comes the rest of the way. Derek curls himself around Scott as best he can, clinging to him with a ferocity that makes Scott worry just how bad Stiles could be.

“He looks so small, Scott. He won’t let me touch him. I can’t fix it. I can’t…I can’t make it better, I can’t…” Derek sucks in a deep breath and sniffles into Scott’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go try and talk to him, huh?” Derek stills.

“He doesn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that. Trust me, okay? He loves you almost as much as I do,” Scott says, finding a small smile and kissing Derek on the tip of his nose, and then again on his forehead. “He needs us like we need him, okay?” Derek nods, straightens himself up. He’s still tense, but the terror is gone from his face. Derek doesn’t like to admit it, and when he does it’s quiet and fast, but Scott knows that he’s been Derek’s anchor for a long time. They interlock hands and head back down the hall. Derek’s grip on his hand grows tighter as they walk, but Scott squeezes his hand right back.

“Stiles, buddy,” he says, taking a step into the room. Stiles is tucked in the space between the bed and the nightstand, curled in on himself. The half-packed boxes sit in front of the closet, one box with a hole punched through the cardboard. Scott looks up at Derek, who inclines his head minutely toward Stiles.

“That’s what started all of this,” Derek whispers. Scott takes another step into the room and crouches down as he approaches Stiles, who whimpers and curls up tighter.

“Stiles, it’s Scott.” Stiles shrugs his shoulders once, leaving them up by his ears. “Can I look in the box you punched?” Another shrug. Scott looks over to Derek again as he gets up to look inside the box. Inside is a memento box of his mother’s old things, a few mixed CDs, one of Derek’s sweaters, and two scarves. One, Scott recognizes as Isaac’s right away. The other he doesn’t recognize immediately, and it isn’t until he unravels it that he understands.

As Lydia’s scent fills the air, Derek gets it, too. Scott’s back across the room in an instant. “Stiles, can I hold your hand?” The air in the room goes tense for a moment before Stiles removes one of his arms from over his head and lays it on the floor. Scott takes it slowly between his hands, interlocking their fingers and lying on the floor.

A long moment passes in the silence like that, until Stiles starts to cry. The tears drop from his face in fat, wet drops that stain the carpet beneath him dark. Sobs rack his body, and Derek makes a noise from deep in the back of his chest like he’s been shot. Scott turns his head to look, and sees Derek with his arms wrapped around himself, leaning against the wall like his legs wouldn’t support his weight.

“Derek, baby, come here,” Scott tells him, beckoning him over with his elbow before turning back to Stiles. “Stiles? Sweetheart? Derek’s really worried about you. Can he come hold your hand too?” Scott reaches behind him for Derek’s hand, and after a small pause, Stiles wipes his face on the sleeve of his shirt and extends his arm, palm up.

When Derek takes Stiles’ hand, Stiles clings to it and pulls himself into Derek’s lap, throws his arms around his neck, and snuffles into Derek’s neck that Scott should come cuddle up behind him. Derek looks like he’s breathing again, and Scott squeezes his arm as they scoot closer together, sandwiching Stiles between them.

“How are we supposed to just let them go and move on?” Stiles sobs, forcing himself to take a shallow, snotty breath before pressing on while he still has the words. “We boxed up my mom’s stuff when she died, and we boxed up your dad’s stuff when he left, and Derek’s old house was nothing but boxes and memories and we’re supposed to sort what we’ve got left of our lives into essential and non-essential piles that we can tuck away into storage and forget about for the next twenty years? How am I supposed to move into a new house? How am I supposed to pack everyone up?”

The question sits heavy in the room, and nobody says anything for a long time. The silence stretches, until Derek clears his throat. His voice trembles while he speaks, like he’s afraid that the wrong decibel will frighten Stiles off again.

“When I moved out of my family’s house for good, I had to decide what I was keeping and what was going to storage and what was still damaged from the fire. And it was hard. But I haven’t forgotten my family. They’re always going to be here. And…and Allison might be gone and Lydia may never come back to Beacon Hills, but they don’t stop being important. We can keep whatever you want in the house. None of us will ever make you try to forget them.” Derek looked up to find Scott rubbing tears out of his eyes, and Stiles’ shoulders finally stopped shaking.

“We’re not packing anything up permanently, okay, Stiles? Anything you want to go to the new house goes. And if there’s space when everything is set up, maybe we can take some stuff out of storage and set it up in an extra room or something.”

“No way, Scotty,” came Stiles’ voice. It’s tired, slow and grainy, but there. “If we let you have an attic, it’ll end up just like Melissa’s.” Scott lets out a soft, feather-light chuckle and rubs slow circles around Stiles’ back.

“Are we okay?” Derek asks, and Stiles turns to kiss him gently, cradling his cheek in his palm. “Are we still—“

“Yes, we’re all still going to live together, you sap.” The soft playfulness makes Stiles feel a little more human, and he rests his head against Scott’s chest while he plays with Derek’s hair. “I’m sorry I scared you, Derek. I just…all of a sudden all I could see was them. We’ve lost so much. I want to keep what I have left.”

“I love you,” Derek breathes instead of responding.

“Can we take a nap?” Stiles asks, a handful of minutes later, once the rest of the panic leaves him drained and clingy. Scott looks at his watch and grimaces. “No, it’s fine. Go. I interrupted coffee with Isaac anyway.” The dismissive wave Stiles gives Scott makes him want to do anything but leave, and he pulls out his phone to type a series of quick text messages.

“Can you put him to bed, Derek? I’ll be in, in a minute; I’m just waiting on Isaac to get here.”

“Isaac is coming?” Stiles asks from his perch in Derek’s arms as he’s hoisted onto the bed.

“Yeah. It’s getting late, and I know you won’t mind the extra company.”

“Nah, the more the merrier. As long as I can be in the middle.” Derek smiles down at Stiles and kisses him on the forehead, brushing back loose, sweat-matted hair and climbing into bed over him. “I can fall asleep now, though, right?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek answers, and he’s out like a light before Scott has time to lean over and kiss him. Derek and Scott look at each other before back down at Stiles. The worry lines in his forehead are too deep for someone so young. “Scott,” Derek says, catching his hand before it goes back to his phone.

“Yeah, hon?” Derek smiles at the pet name and shrugs one shoulder up.

“Thank you. It’s not just him…who needs you. I was so lost today. I thought…I didn’t know what to think. But you just, you knew. Thank you for knowing.” Scott leans over and kisses the top of Derek’s head, holding him close until Stiles grumbles and shifts in Derek’s arms for more space.

“I’m gonna wait for Isaac, and we can just call it an early night. When you wake up, can you order Chinese food so that Stiles has something to eat when he wakes up in the middle of the night?” Derek nods and chuckles at just how well Scott and Stiles know each other; two halves of one functioning whole. Derek looks down at Stiles, whose face is still blotchy, but the red isn’t so angry anymore, and he’s clinging to the hem of Derek’s shirt the way he does when he has a bad dream. Derek strokes a soft hand down his back and settles down next to him.

He wakes when the bed dips under Scott and Isaac’s combined weight, and then again when Stiles curls in closer to him and whispers his thanks to Derek for not leaving him.

“Never,” Derek promises, and as Scott mumbles sleepily behind him, he knows it’s true.

* * *

 

When everything is said and done, they finish moving in on February 19th. That’s when the last box is unpacked and left on the side of the house for the recycle, when Isaac finally finishes assembling that video game nook from Ikea. It’s the day that Scott looks around at what he and his family have created and really feels like he’s home.

Stiles’ laptop and Derek’s reading glasses are scattered haphazardly across the coffee table, there are four days of dirty dishes in the sink and too many containers of take out in the fridge, and Scott feels like he’s so full he might burst. He walks the hallways of his new house in a reverent kind of silence, letting the feeling of warmth and peace and _home_ wash over him. For once, there’s no blood boiling or earth-shattering emergency. There are no more monsters and no more fighting. The staircase is the homage to those who didn’t make it as far as they did. There are school pictures of Erica, Boyd, Allison, and Aiden. There are candids that aren’t framed, but tacked up with painters tape. Lydia’s scarf and a copy of her doctorate hang toward the top of the stairs, and Scott lets his fingers trail across the bottom of each picture frame, remembering, but not stuck.

When he reaches the landing, he heads for the only room that hasn’t been used yet. After much discussion, everyone decided that there needed to be three bedrooms: one for Stiles and Derek, one for Scott and Isaac, and one that all four of them could share. Originally, the plan was to have the room be for Scott and Stiles, but after what the four of them have taken to calling The Incident, it became clear that sometimes there was nothing better for feeling like shit than pack. Scott jumps and dives into the center of the California king, rumpling the sheets that Derek took real care to dress the bed with. He inhales and smells his lovers, his family, his pack.

He doesn’t realize he falls asleep until Isaac is waking him up with soft kisses pressed in the hollow behind his ear. He sighs softly and leans his head back into the soft nuzzling when he feels hands skimming his thighs. They’re not Isaac’s hands, the fingers are too wide

“Derek?” he asks blearily, blinking sleep from his eyes and trying to find consciousness again. Derek kisses the exposed strip of skin between his jeans and his shirt, but other than that, says nothing. “Isaac?” Isaac kisses a trail down his jaw.

“We found you napping.” Stiles’ voice is further away than the two sets of hands, but still close, and the way that Derek is sucking and scraping his teeth against the skin of his hip bones is making it difficult to open his eyes and properly place him in the room. “I think it’s cute that you came in here to nap. Isaac was saying the other day that he finds you sniffing the furniture.”

“Stiles, that’s not how I said it.” Scott chuckles and tilts his head further back in search of a kiss. Isaac obliges until Derek gets impatient and breaks their kiss to shove his t-shirt up over his head and onto the floor so that he can kiss in from his hips and up his chest. Scott’s nipples have always been sensitive, and when Derek’s teeth create the smallest amount of pressure around it, he gasps and arches up, leaving his neck open under Isaac’s lips. Scott’s breath catches in his throat and he swallows around it, forces his eyes open to find Stiles, hard and naked and watching him. They make eye contact, and Stiles smiles with just the upturned corners of his mouth. Scott’s only ever seen this look for Derek before.

“I know this is the room that smells like all of us. We know you like that. And maybe me and Derek and Isaac will never be right for each other, but we’re all right for you. And we want to show that to you, like you show us.”

Derek releases Scott’s left nipple to kiss his way over to where Scott’s heart is slamming against his chest. “You’ve been so patient. You worked so hard to get here. Let us take care of you.” Derek’s hands grip Scott’s hip while Isaac moves to unbutton the top of his jeans, lifting Scott’s hips for him when they’re ready to pull off the material. Scott’s still staring at Stiles, who takes another step closer, close enough now that Stiles could reach out and touch Scott’s ankle if he wanted to.

“Stiles and I were talking the other day,” Isaac starts up, using the tip of his tongue to trace the outer shell of Scott’s ear while Derek palms his cock through his boxers. Scott’s hips buck up a fraction of an inch before Derek’s other hand keeps him in place. “He said that he’s always wondered what I looked like when I was blowing you.” Isaac has the decency to flush, but Stiles shrugs one shoulder and grins wider.

“I guess we’re gonna find out,” Scott pants, trying and failing to be funny when Derek pulls off his boxers. They change places without giving Scott time to move, one hand always on him: a palm on his thigh, a singer trailing the inner crook of his elbow, Isaac’s bare leg sliding down his own as he shifts into position at the foot of the bed. Stiles’ smile is gone, replaced with a small ‘o’ as he watches Scott get progressively more turned on.

Stiles loves watching Scott’s cock get hard. It starts with the pulse at the base of the shaft, and Isaac wraps his tongue around it and peppers it with kisses until Scott’s straining upward. Derek takes Scott’s other nipple between his lips as Isaac sinks his mouth down around his cock, and Stiles watches as Scott’s eyes roll up and flutter. He can’t wait anymore, then, and sidesteps around Isaac to press a soft kiss to Scott’s parted lips. Scott gasps and kisses him back frantically, and Stiles tangles his fingers in Scott’s hair and pulls just a little, the way he knows Scott likes it, before kissing him again.

“I thought,” comes a petulant voice, and Stiles remembers that there’s more to his world than Scott’s mouth. “I thought you wanted to watch, Stiles.” Isaac’s voice is deeper now, and when Stiles looks at him, his lips are wet and plump, and Stiles can see how Scott fell in love with him. His face is eager, earnest, attentive, and just a little bit playful. Scott brought that back out in him.

“He’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you,” Scott whispers to Isaac, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He nudges Stiles’ arm to get his attention. “Do you want to kiss him, Stiles? Isaac talks sometimes about how he thinks about kissing you.” Stiles’ eyes dart back and forth between Scott and Isaac, until Derek reaches out to rub his arm.

“It’s okay. You can if you want to,” Isaac says, so quietly that it schools everyone into silence. Isaac and Stiles lock eyes, and then slowly, Stiles nods and lets go of Scott’s hair so he can lean down until his lips are hovering just above Isaac’s, who closes the distance between them in a motion so slow that Stiles can pinpoint the different spots on their lips that first connect. He hears Derek take an audible breath to his left, and then he sighs and Stiles knows that Scott is stroking his cock slowly while he watches.

Isaac’s shoulders roll downward, relaxing and letting a smile tuck up the ends of his mouth. Stiles smiles back and parts his lips, feels the weight of Isaac’s tongue as it traces the bottom of his outer lip.

“Bite his lip,” Derek says in a hushed voice that’s sticky slow like molasses. “You asked once what I threaten him with when I get him to be quiet.” Isaac’s grin against Stiles’ lips shifts until Stiles feels the barest pressure on his lower lip. Stiles sucks in a shaky breath and trembles, leaning forward on instinct. The pressure increases minutely; Stiles whimpers and curls his fingers into tight fists against his thighs. Isaac nips a little harder, sucking Stiles’ lower lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth across it as he lets go.

“Fuck,” Stiles whimpers, and it’s the only warning Isaac has before Stiles is vaulting into Isaac’s lap, pulling their faces together and kissing him. It’s hot and urgent and it’s only seconds before Stiles discovers that Isaac is rendered incoherent when there are fingernails dragging down his back. Stiles loses track of anything that isn’t the way that Isaac’s lips quiver under his until there’s movement on the bed, and they’re jostled apart.

“—off now, please?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Where’s the lube?”

“It’s in the bottom drawer.” Stiles brings up a hand to rest on Isaac’s cheek, thumb brushing over the sharp angles of his cheekbone.

“Welcome back,” Derek greets with a soft chuckle, and Stiles half-heartedly flips him off. “Scott wants to get off now.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks. Derek nods.

“He said he’d imagined the two of you kissing before, but he never thought it would be so hot.”

“Yeah,” Isaac breathes, and the four of them dissolve into easy laughter.

“So, how does Scott want to get off tonight?” Stiles asks, climbing up the bed so he can kiss him and tweak his nipple while he waits for an answer. Derek shuffles around the contents of the bottom drawer. Scott doesn’t answer right away, instead searching for Isaac’s hand on the bed. Isaac frowns and takes it, rubbing slow circles into Scott’s outer thigh.

“What is it?” Stiles’ voice is expectant and patient and a little excited. Scott flushes a deeper shade of red. He can say it now, now that he’s home and safe and it’s okay to be vulnerable. The feeling, the desire to be honest and open terrifies and thrills him.

“I want you to come inside of me,” he says to Stiles, but holds a finger up before he can interrupt. “And then I want Derek to come inside of me.” Stiles’ jaw works a little, but his mind goes blank. Absently, he reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock, and a smile blips across Scott’s face.

“And then it’s my turn, right?” Isaac asks, his voice hoarse all over again. Scott takes a deep breath in, holds it, and nods as he exhales.

“How long have you wanted us to do this?” Derek asks, handing off the lube to Stiles, who opens it and spreads some across his finger. Derek grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and Scott lifts legs so it can rest under his hips. Isaac strokes one thigh while Stiles presses kisses against the other.

“I…I thought about it a few months ago, back when we were first deciding to move in together. _Ah_.” Stiles works a finger inside of Scott, hums his approval. “I wanted it to feel real…to feel grounded. _Faster_ , Stiles. You guys make me feel whole. I wanted…I wanted my body to feel that way, too.”

Derek kisses the next moan out of Scott’s mouth as Stiles adds another finger. Isaac presses a kiss to the head of his cock before opening his mouth around it, and Scott has to decide if he wants more of Stiles’ fingers or Isaac’s mouth. Stiles watches Scott start to come apart underneath them, the way he fucks himself on his fingers, the way he’s at a loss for words, resorting to soft grunts and wanton pleas for more.

Stiles times it perfectly, the curve of his fingers as Isaac takes him down his throat, pressing against Scott’s prostate, and Scott’s filter breaks.

“Oh, god, Stiles, Stiles please fuck me,” he begs, thighs tense and quivering. His voice is half muffled by Derek’s lips on his, but there’s no mistaking his words. Stiles opens the lube again, pours some into his hand and strokes it down his cock with a slow, practiced hand.

“Can I suck him off while Stiles fucks him?” Derek asks Isaac, and they share a brief smile as they switch. Derek pauses in his movement to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips, whisper to him how much he loves him and how much he loves to watch Stiles make Scott feel good. Stiles strokes Scott’s shin and pushes Scott’s knee up and out so he can settle between Scott’s thighs. When they’re close enough to feel the heat of each other, Stiles’ cock heavy and familiar between Scott’s legs, Stiles can tell how much this means to Scott. His cock is leaking and straining upward against his belly and the shallow breaths that cause the rapid rise and fall of his chest make his wide eyes and pretty flush all the more alluring. Stiles thinks Scott is beautiful like this, and tells him so in as many words as he pushes in, and they adjust to move together the way they were made to.

Scott’s certain, when he’s full of Stiles, that this was all destined to happen somehow. Isaac’s fingers are threaded through his, peppering his neck and chin in kisses, and Derek’s tongue is swirling endless patterns against the underside of his cock while the friction of Stiles thrums through his blood.

“I love when he gets vocal like this,” Isaac pants, stroking himself with his left hand. “You sound so beautiful. I love to make you feel good, Scott.” Scott nods, but there are no words. He’s too far gone to do much other than squeeze Isaac’s hand back reassuringly and curse when Stiles snaps his hips and drives his cock across his prostate.

“Yeah, come on, Scotty. Just like that. Let go for me,” Stiles pants, fisting one hand in the sheets by Scott’s head. He’s barely holding on, too. The addition of one extra body is so much more stimuli, and Stiles is so close. Scott nods, takes half of a breath and bucks his hips up, and Derek opens his mouth wider to swallow his cock down further.

“ _Fuck_ , Derek,” Scott whines, but Derek doesn’t pull off, and Scott has no option other than to let the orgasm start to pulse through him. “Oh god, Stiles, I…”

“Yeah, we’ve got you,” Stiles promises quietly, burying himself deep inside of Scott. His hips stutter and he’s coming too, whispering Scott’s name into his chest and pressing his lips against whatever flesh he can find. In the distance, Scott is vaguely aware that he can feel himself spilling into Derek’s mouth, and goosebumps rise on his skin when his cock hits cool air. Stiles is still for a breath longer, and he pulls out of Scott with a low groan.

“I love you,” Scott breathes, and Stiles feels the truth in his bones as he curls up to Scott’s side to kiss him and draw lazy circles into his side with his forefinger.

“I love you too,” Stiles returns. “Do you need a break?” Scott shakes his head.

“Come let me feel you,” Scott says to Derek.

“I want to taste you first,” Stiles says.

“Always so greedy,” Derek teases as he rises onto all fours to press his lips against Stiles’. The taste of Scott in Derek’s mouth is something that Stiles is convinced he’ll never get tired of.

“I’m only greedy when it comes to you two,” Stiles says, always cheeky, but sedated and cozy. Derek smiles the big grin like he’s full to bursting, and gropes around the bedspread for long enough to find the lube before he’s slick, lined up, and pushing into Scott with a renewed sense of urgency.

For Derek, being inside of Scott is kind of like experiencing heaven. Usually, when it’s just the two of them, Scott’s the one who takes Derek. It’s always slow and deep and when Stiles fucks him it’s frenetic and electric and the energy is palpable, but it’s deeper, more rumbling with Scott, and Derek wants so badly to be able to give that same urgent, pulsing energy back to him.

Stiles keeps one hand on Scott’s cock, sometimes stroking, sometimes just holding it, and Scott’s twitching on just this side of oversensitivity when Derek gets close. His cock is struggling to get hard again, and there’s a small puddle of sweat on the pillow at his hips. The tangles of his hair are matted against parts of his head and stuck up in others, and Derek has never seen Scott so open and receptive before. His eyes are wide and bright but unfocused, and he’s so concentrated on the look of bliss on Scott’s face that his orgasm sneaks up on him, and he curls one hand around Scott’s hips and comes with his jaw dropped open.

Scott gasps when Derek comes, feels the difference in how full he is with his and Stiles’ come inside of him. He moans and turns his head to the right, seeking Isaac’s touch. Isaac strokes a hand down his face and shushes him, kisses him softly and reassures him that he’s so hot like this; that he can’t wait to be inside of him, too.

“Please, Isaac,” Scott says, and there’s a tinge of desperation to it, like every moment that Isaac isn’t a part of who’s inside him causes him physical pain.

“Shit, I wonder if Isaac can make him come again,” Stiles says, and Derek looks down to see that Scott’s hard again, leaking slick beads of precome all over Stiles’ fingers that Isaac can’t resist. He bends down to take Stiles’ fingers in his mouth, his tongue lazy in its cleanup, sometimes slipping between his digits to lap at the slick on Scott’s cock.

“Oh, god,” Scott shudders, and Derek’s right there to kiss a trail from his thigh down to the back of his knee, calming the buzz that’s risen to the surface. Scott’s energy is buzzing, and he’s never been so non-verbal before. Usually, Scott is the one who’s got soft touches and reassuring speeches. There’s also the dirty talk. Derek assumed that it would be Stiles who had a filthy mouth, but Scott loves to be specific about what he wants and exactly how he wants it. But now, like this, it’s like Scott’s too far gone to even try for more than one syllable words.

“I think he can do it. He took you both so well,” Isaac says in a voice that’s nearly a purr, soft encouragement in his smile as he trades places with Derek. “You’re not spent yet, are you, sweetheart?” Isaac asks, and Scott shakes his head slowly, determined.

“No, please no. Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I need you, Isaac, please.”

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, I promise,” Isaac coos, his hand joined by Stiles’ on Scott’s chest.

“Mm, Scotty, do you wanna watch me and Isaac make out while he fucks you?” Stiles whispers in Scott’s ear, and Scott closes his eyes and inclines his head the slightest bit to say yes. “You have to open your eyes. You have to watch if you want to see it. Come on, look at me.” Scott blinks his eyes open again, only to screw them shut again as Isaac pushes into him.

“ _Fuck_ , fuck! Yes, please. Just like that, Isaac.” Scott opens his eyes and finds Isaac’s. They share a look that’s lost on Derek and Stiles, but it warms the room all the same. “Fuck me, yeah? Fill me up.”

“God, Scott, you’re so hot like that,” Derek groans, taking Stiles’ hand and using it and his own combined to start jerking Scott off in time to Isaac’s thrusts. “I love when you talk to us, tell us how you want it.”

“It does, it makes him so hot. We talk about it when you’re not around,” Stiles assures him, kissing him quickly on the chest and then finding Isaac’s lips. “No lip biting this time. If I come again I will literally jizz my brain out of my dick.” Isaac snorts and gives his best imitation of a Boy Scout salute before pressing their lips together. It’s different like this, with Stiles’ arm in constant motion and the push and pull of Isaac’s thrusts, but it makes the kiss feel a little bit like fucking too.

Scott sighs as he watches the display above him, his hands clawing fists into the sheets. His legs lift up, pulling Isaac closer, and Scott cries out, tears prickling the backs of his eyes. The orgasm tenses in his stomach, and Scott’s abs tighten with the start of it.

“Oh, god,” Scott whispers, straining forward to meet his orgasm. It crashes down on him in a rush, and his hips quiver in place as hot come splashes against his chest. He feels the spaces between where it splatters, where Stiles’ fingers smear it against his cock so that he can pull away to bring his fingers to Isaac’s lips.

“He came just for you, Isaac,” Stiles tells him, following his fingers with his tongue to chase the taste of Scott in his mouth.

“Do you want to share it with Derek?” Isaac asks, his breath getting shorter. Scott’s spent, but he’s present enough to pull Isaac in closer, coax him to completion. Stiles nods, turns his head blindly and puckers his lips. Derek, ever present, is there for the kiss, hot and sweaty and slow in contrast to the way that Isaac’s hips pick up speed. Scott’s making quiet moans in time with each thrust, and Isaac’s eyes close the closer he gets.

“Yeah, that’s it, Isaac. Let him feel you,” Derek says, and his low, smoky-smooth voice is all it takes to be enough. Isaac drops his head between his shoulders and comes with a quiet cry, buried deep inside of Scott.

“Fuck,” Stiles says, and then nobody says anything for a long time. Isaac’s heavy breathing levels out and he pulls out of Scott. For a second, Scott has the pleasure of floating above himself, full and sated deep in his bones in a way he never thought he would feel again, not after Allison. The moment passes when he feels the warm rush of cum down his ass and down into the sheets. Scott knows he needs a shower, but he could sleep like this, with the musky scent of his three boyfriends and the soft waves of the post-orgasm haze washing over him.

They only move enough to make sure that there’s enough space on the bed for everyone to sleep with a body part draped over Scott, and he wakes once in the middle of the night before rolling over to go back to bed. His legs are sore, he’s tired and achy and stuck to the sheets in two different places, but Scott could not be happier to say that he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [tumbl](http://dasbijou.tumblr.com) with me


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